


Contemplations or: Smith Really Wishes He Could Stop Thinking Sometimes, but Some Dreams are Unattainable

by orphan_account



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Angst, Aromantic Character, Confusion, Introspection, Multi, Quoiromantic Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3865294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a quiet rainy afternoon and Smith’s two best friends in the world are at his house.  Confessions turn to promises and Smith lays awake that night, trying desperately to gain understanding of his own feelings.  ~Hatsome Teencast AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contemplations or: Smith Really Wishes He Could Stop Thinking Sometimes, but Some Dreams are Unattainable

The silence was heavy, and Alex couldn’t understand why. Ross and Chris were folded in on themselves, as if to minimize the amount of space they took up. He sensed it too, the uneasy air.

Outside the world was overcast, the faint rumblings of thunder on the horizon. It was dark, very dark, but inside Alex’s room the yellow lights were on and the heater was running steadily in the background.

It was comfortable. Or, at least, it should have been.

But Ross set down his controller in frustration halfway through a versus match, and Alex’d been left punching at thin air.

“Jeez, mate, c’mon, I want to pound your ass legitimately,” Alex whined, tossing down his controller as well.

It was then that the air had struck him; quiet, ominous. Chris, too, was strangely quiet. There’d been less heckling and name-calling tonight than probably any night they’d spent together.

It was Ross who began to speak, haltingly. “I don’t know how to say this,” he said, and Alex felt a nervous twinge in his chest. “I think I l- I mean, I think I’m in love with you.”

The battle music played in the background, grainy from Alex’s old speakers.

Chris said, equally hesitant, “B-both of us?”

And Ross’ breath was unsteady as he delayed his response. “Yes,” he said, and his voice was almost a whisper now.

The silence dragged on, and Alex felt the need to say something. Anything. But what?

Chris saved him, though perhaps not in the way he would like. “I’m the same. I mean, I love you, um, both of you.”

Did they? It seemed so.

Now for the real question. Did he love them?

Quick, think.

He tried, but the silence was already dragging on too long, and it was now or never so he cleared his throat and said simply: “Me too.”

Ross laughed, a short, desperate burst of emotion, and put his head in his hands. “Thank fuck,” he muttered, and Alex felt he’d made the right decision, probably.

And Chris leaned forward and pulled Ross’ hands away from his face and smiled at him, expression bright and leaning toward mischievous. Alex looked at his own hands and wondered what he should do with them.

Alex watched as Chris leaned in and kissed Ross, a sweet close-mouthed kiss. Ross’ hand came up to rest on Chris’ cheek, and Chris hummed quietly. A pleasant noise.

When they pulled apart Chris turned to Alex and said, “Didn’t forget you, mate, don’t worry,” and leaned in.

Chris’ lips were warm, he supposed.

He hadn’t expected fireworks; he knew all of the bullshit about kisses was blown far out of proportion, but.

Surely he was supposed to feel something?

He opened his mouth against Chris’, tongue questing, trying to find the appeal. But while Chris’ mouth was wet and heated against his own, Alex still didn’t understand what the point of all this was.

Now if he could push Chris down and progress to more interesting activities, that was another matter.

But Chris was already pulling away, and Alex figured that the two wouldn’t exactly be up for fucking about a minute after confessing their affections.

Then Ross leaned in and kissed him as well. His mouth felt different, lips chapped. Alex didn’t bother to open his mouth this time.

~

Chris and Ross were fast asleep, curled up on Alex’s bed.

Alex was awake.

He stared at their sleeping forms, hugging his legs to his chest and thinking. They were totally unaware of what was going on inside him.

He loved them so much.

But he always had. He’d always wanted to protect them, cared for them, enjoyed their company. He didn’t really understand what was different now. Except, of course, eventually they would fuck.

There was a burning within him, that drove him to want more, more from them. He wanted it all. Everything they had to offer another human being, he wanted. Not the handholding and the fuckin’ Valentine’s Day cards. The words and posing.

Was this romantic love? Alex wondered. Was this that wild feeling people talk about, cry about, laugh about? It seemed rootless in him, a tornado yet to touch down, spinning wildly and pulling all of him inexorably toward it.

A shaky hand reached toward Ross’ leg, strewn across the bedcovers, not six inches from Alex. He rested his fingertips on the cloth covering the other’s leg.

He liked that they were in his bed. That feeling was animalistic in nature, territorial and possessive. His people.

Was that romantic love?

An aspect of it, maybe.

He could imagine kissing them. Touching them. Having sex with them. Twining up their bodies closer than he’d previously thought possible, heartbeats and sweaty skin and heat.

So what? Sex wasn’t love.

“Whatsamatter, mate?”

Startled, Alex’s head jerked, and he met Ross’ icy blue eyes, glinting softly in the dark of the room.

“Nothing, mate,” his mouth said.

“What’re you doin’ all the way over there?” Ross’ voice was slurred with sleep, endearing.

Alex looked down at himself, his legs bent tightly and tense, held away from the relaxed bodies of the others on either side.

Ross lifted his foot and poked Alex in the leg. “Lay down, you’re gonna get a cramp like that.”

Gingerly, Alex unfolded himself, crawling up in between Ross and Chris. He dropped down and turned his head away from Ross, aware of the other’s eyes still focused on him.

His skin shivered when he felt Ross drape his forearm across Alex’s waist, but he didn’t move. He felt Ross scoot closer, until his back was pressing against Ross’ chest. Slowly, Alex reached his own hand out and lay it gently on Chris’ waist. He felt like he ought.

Chris shuffled toward him. On instinct? He didn’t seem awake. But he curled up, feet somewhere around Alex’s knees, hands tucked in against the larger boy’s chest. Alex took a deep breath and buried his nose in Chris’ hair. It was as silky as it was the last time he touched it, several months ago.

He felt Ross hum, a gentle vibration against his back. And the arm around his waist relaxed a little as the owner slowly fell asleep again.

He would’ve thought he’d like it.

But his skin felt itchy, the weight of Ross’ arm around his waist a persistent reminder of their presence in his bed. He couldn’t move, and he was already beginning to feel sweat stick to his clammy skin.

He wanted to escape.

Calm down, he told himself, and breathed slowly. There was nothing for it; he had to keep still and keep breathing.

Alex had never been a patient person. But now he found the hours ticking easily by. He’d never really had insomnia, but he supposed this is what it was like. Wide awake, staring into the dark room, minutes passing as easily as heartbeats.

He thought the desperate instinct to escape would go away, after a while. It didn’t.

He loved them, he told himself.

He would be this person for them.

It wouldn’t be hard to hide the restless nervousness, the desire to run and escape; he’d always been combative with them.

So Alex breathed in, resigning himself to the first of many sleepless nights, the sounds of his friends’ gentle snores piercing his ears in the still, dark night.


End file.
